


Only Fools Dial Drunk

by kesdax



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Challenge: Shoot Week, F/F, shoot week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Root and Shaw drunk dialled each other and one time they didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Fools Dial Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shoot Week.  
> Prompts: ‘Drunk dialling’ and ‘Blood play’

1.

It wasn’t until later, when she was stumbling along the dark streets of New York city, that Root belatedly realised that it probably hadn’t been one of her better ideas. But well, the guy had information she needed, and challenging him to a drinking match had seemed like a good idea at the time…

Except… well Root had never really been good at holding her drink… and now the world was spinning… and the Machine’s incessant chattering in her ear was _not_ helping with her urge to vomit.

Root bent over then and retched, bringing up nothing but bile because she hadn’t eaten anything all day… which explained why she was having so much difficulty standing upright. Root leaned against a nearby wall, fumbling in her pockets for her phone. She didn’t know why she wanted it, but she struggled to grip it in her fingers and almost dropped it twice before she felt sure it was safe in her hands. Then she peered at it for a moment as she tried to figure out how to work it.

The Machine reeled off an instruction, but it was all just white noise to Root, who had finally managed to turn her phone on and then she was dialling before she could think about it.

It didn’t take long for someone to answer on the other end, a grumpy and disgruntled voice that Root would recognise anywhere, even whilst intoxicated out of her mind. Root mumbled something into the general direction of the mouth piece.

“ _Root?_ Is that you?”

“I need you to pick me up,” Root muttered, although to her ears and anyone else listening it sounded like, “nee’pic’m’up.”

“Where are you?” Shaw asked. She sounded pissed off, Root thought, but she liked to pretend she sounded concerned too. “What happened?”

Root muttered something incoherent again. She was sitting down on the cold, hard ground. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there, but decided it was comfy enough for her to close her eyes and shut out the spinning world once and for all.

*

“Root, wake up,” Shaw said forcefully. But Root still had her eyes shut. Shaw muttered a curse under her breath. She was tired and so couldn’t be bothered with this shit tonight. Shaw slapped the other woman hard across the face and Root’s eyes snapped open.

"Jesus, you're as drunk as a skunk," Shaw complained, catching a whiff of what smelled like stale tequila off the other woman.

"'M not," Root mumbled.

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Sure you're not." Shaw slinked an arm around Root's waist and hefted her onto her feet. "Come on, up you get."

Root stumbled and Shaw quickly realised that there was no way Root was going to get any further without Shaw's help. Shaw gritted her teeth and half carried, half-dragged Root to her car.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear your explanation for this one," Shaw muttered and smirked a bit when Root's head hit off the door frame. Served her right for making Shaw come all the way out here at two in the morning.  The Machine was partly to blame for that too, because Shaw had absolutely no intention of trying to decipher Root's garbled phone call. But then she had been sent an address from an "unknown number" and figured that the Machine's precious Analogue Interface had to be in real trouble if She had felt the need to contact Shaw directly. Not that Shaw considered Root's current intoxicated state as her being in trouble. But this was a rough neighbourhood and Root was in no condition to fight anyone off if someone had come along and decided to take advantage.

Shaw all but shoved Root into a sitting position and slammed the door shut, sighing heavily. She glanced up at a nearby security camera, watched as it blinked back at her.

"Now what?" Shaw said no one in particular. She was half expecting another text message with an address but her phone remained quiet. "Oh, for..." Shaw muttered and walked around to the other side of the car to get into the driver's seat. It looked like Root was crashing at her place.

"You’re sleeping on the floor," Shaw said to an unconscious Root. Shaw lifted her head up by the hair, not caring at all if she pulled some of them out, and snarled in disgust at the drool creeping its way down Root's chin. "If you throw up in my car, I'm going to shoot you," Shaw growled and let go of her.

*

Root woke up to a pounding in her head so violent she thought her brain was going to explode. She also didn't know where she was and it took her a moment to realise she was lying on a floor, her entire body aching. But at least someone had had the courtesy to put a pillow under her head, she thought, despite the crick in her neck.

Root sat up and felt the world spin. "What?" she mumbled when she didn't recognise her surroundings.

The Machine told her where she was at the same time as Shaw said, "Nice of you to wake up."

"Do you have to talk so loud?" Root groaned, clutching a hand to her ear as if that would somehow quieten the Machine.

"Which one of us are you talking to?" Shaw asked.

"Both of you," Root said wearily.

"Here, this'll help," Shaw said, tossing her a bottle of water and some aspirin. Root was in no condition to catch them and the bottle of water smacked into her shoulder.

"Ow," she complained and glared when Shaw smirked.

"First hangover?" Shaw asked unsympathetically.

Root scowled. "I don't drink much, if you must know." She unscrewed the lid and took a gulp of water. It was cold going down her throat and she realised too late that she wasn't going to keep it down.

Shaw must have seen the change in her because her eyes widened. "Bathroom. Now," she ordered.

Root didn't need told twice and she stumbled blindly into Shaw's bathroom, making it to the toilet bowl just in time and only stopped retching when her stomach was empty, leaving her insides feeling raw. Root groaned and leaned back against the wall, clutching at her throbbing head. Her fingers brushed against a bump, sending a stinging pain through her skull.

"What the..." Root muttered as she prodded the sensitive area with her fingers.

"You may have... bumped your head a little," Shaw said vaguely, leaning against the door frame.

Root noted the glint in Shaw's eyes and narrowed her own suspiciously. "Why do I get the feeling you're enjoying this a little too much?"

Shaw shrugged. "You want to tell me how you got into this mess, Lightweight?"

Root scowled. "I needed to get information from someone. Getting him drunk seemed like the fastest way."

"Oh? And what information was that?"

Root's face fell when she realised her mind was a complete blank. She didn't even remember calling Shaw and only knew that she had because the Machine told her.

"You don't remember?" said Shaw incredulously. "Great plan, dumbass."

Root glared. "The Machine remembers." At least Root assumed She did and the Machine confirmed it when She relayed to her what Root had found out last night.

"Well, as amusing as it is to watch you suffer," said Shaw, "time for you to leave."

"Aren't you going to make me breakfast first?" Root asked cheekily then regretted it almost immediately when her stomach turned at the thought of food and she groaned as she leaned over the toilet bowl again.

"You know you look kind of pathetic, right?" Shaw said.

Root gave her the finger in favour of the acerbic response that was hot on her lips as her mouth was currently occupied. When she was done, mainly because there was nothing left to come up, she glanced up wearily at Shaw. She really didn’t think she could go anywhere at the moment, and she stared pleadingly at Shaw until the other woman sighed heavily in resignation.

"Can't you go throw up in someone else's house?" she asked, but Root noticed that there was less aggressiveness in her tone now.

"That involves moving," said Root weakly.

"Fine," Shaw snapped. "I have to go help Reese with a number. You better be gone by the time I get back."

Root heard the note of warning in Shaw’s tone and made plans to get out of their as soon as she felt like her insides _weren’t_ trying to tear themselves out.

 

2.

Shaw preferred to drink alone when she could help it and normally in the privacy of her own home. But tonight something had prompted her to venture out and she was currently sitting in her favourite bar, throwing back straight scotch (the good stuff, single malt and at least 20 years old - it was a good thing Finch paid her so much) and pretty much ignoring everyone around her. She didn't want company. Well, at least not the company where you were required to make small talk, and she let her eyes scan the room looking for a familiar face.

Shaw wasn't exactly a regular, but she had frequented here enough times to recognise some of the usual clientele, but she couldn't see the person she was looking for amongst the crowd tonight.

Shaw pulled out her phone before she could think about it. She wasn't prone to calling people up, she usually waited to see what would happen, but she'd already had four drinks tonight, all of them doubles, and she wasn't exactly thinking straight. Plus she was horny.

Shaw scrawled down to the R's in her short phone book and pressed her thumb down on the name Ryan. Shaw had met him here a few months ago. He was fun and easy to look at and didn't get squeamish when Shaw brought out the knives. He also didn't ask any questions or expect anything from Shaw apart from a fun night. And he appreciated her discreetness. (When Shaw had vetted him she found out he worked for the DA's office and wasn't surprised that he was inclined to keep his extra-curricular activities quiet.)

But when the line picked up on the other end it was a woman's voice that answered.

"Shaw?"

_Fuck_ , Shaw thought, realising that she must have hit the name above Ryan's on her contact list.

"Uh… I didn't mean to call you," said Shaw, cringing at how slurred her voice sounded.

"Are you drunk?" Root asked and Shaw thought she could detect a hint of glee in her voice. "Did you just drunk dial me?"

"I wasn't calling _you_ ," Shaw said, pinching the bridge of her nose as she leaned against the bar and wondered why she was even still continuing this conversation.

"Is this a booty call?" Root said. Yeah, there was definitely some glee there. Root was enjoying this way too much.

"I'm hanging up now," Shaw said before things could get any worse.

"Where are you?" Root asked. "West 43rd Street, right?"

"No," Shaw said sullenly, cursing the Machine under her breath.

"I can be there in ten minutes," said Root.

"I wasn't calling you," Shaw repeated loudly, attracting odd looks from some of the other customers at the bar.

"Sure," said Root and hung up.

Shaw stared blearily at her phone for a moment and decided it was probably best to order another drink.

*

By the time Root arrived, Shaw had downed two more doubles and the bartender was starting to eye her warily when she tried to order another.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Root muttered in her ear and grinned when Shaw jumped.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Shaw growled, turning her head slightly to face Root.

“You called me, remember?”

“By accident,” Shaw huffed and went to lean her elbow back on the bar. But she missed by about three inches and almost slid off her stool.

Root rolled her eyes and couldn’t help the small quirk of her lips.

“I meant to call a _friend,”_ Shaw emphasised and sat up a little straighter, although Root thought it looked like she might be swaying ever so slightly.

“I didn’t know you had any friends,” Root said with a smirk.

“Screw you,” Shaw growled and reached for her glass, realised it was empty and slammed it back down onto the bar. The bartender shot her a scathing look when the glass broke, shards falling all over the place. “Fuck,” Shaw muttered when one of the shards, about an inch long, slid easily into her palm.

“As fun as that sounds,” Root said, taking Shaw by the elbow, “I don’t think you’re in any condition to be screwing anyone tonight.”

“Get off,” Shaw grumbled, wrenching her arm out of Root’s grip. Shaw pushed herself onto her own two feet, staring hazily at her bleeding palm as she stumbled out of the bar.

Root mouthed an apology to the bartender and followed the other woman out onto the street.

“You always this tetchy when you have a drink?” asked Root. “Well, more tetchy than usual?” she added absently as she watched Shaw pull the piece of glass out of her hand. Then Root scrunched her nose up in disgust when Shaw started to suck the wound in an attempt to get it to stop bleeding. “Are you sure that’s sanitary?”

Shaw froze and glared at her. “Why are you still here?”

Root shrugged because she honestly really didn’t know the answer. Anyway, turnabout was only fair play. She’d only been here five minutes and already she had a goldmine of things for future torture purposes.

“What?” Shaw asked, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re drunk,” said Root, unable to keep the grin off her face.

“I am not,” said Shaw sourly even as she swayed slightly on her feet. “Just because _you_ can’t handle your drink,” she added and started to stumble backwards. Root automatically moved to grab onto her, but Shaw batted her away, which just caused her to stagger even more and she fell backwards into a parked car on the street so violently that she set its alarm off.

“Shit,” Shaw muttered through the blaring alarm.

“What was that about not being drunk?” Root asked.

“Fuck off,” Shaw snapped and tried to stand up straight.

“Well, that’s not very polite now, is it?” Root said sweetly and tried to hold back a smirk when Shaw scowled at her. “Especially after _you_ called _me_ all the way down here.”

“I did _not_ call you,” Shaw snapped and stumbled her way down a side street. Root followed her, biting her lip in amusement as she watched Shaw pull her keys out of her pocket and immediately drop them to the ground.

“Shit,” Shaw muttered.

“You’re not seriously thinking of driving home, are you?” Root asked.

“Go away,” Shaw said.

“You can’t even walk in a straight line, how do you expect to drive in one?”

“Leave me alone,” Shaw said tersely.

“Okay,” said Root, realising quickly that Shaw was ten times more stubborn when she was inebriated. “I’ll leave you alone, but only if you can shoot me.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Shoot me,” said Root, holding her arms out to make herself a better target.

Shaw peered at her through heavy-lidded eyelids, a slight smirk on her face. “Okay, fine. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time anyway.”

Root tried to pretend she wasn’t bothered by how eager Shaw was to get her gun out, and watched her steadily as Shaw aimed the gun at her head. The Machine told her how far off Shaw’s aim was and she didn’t even flinch when the gun went off, not the least bit surprised when the bullet missed her head by about six inches, embedding itself in the building behind her.

“Okay, you never miss,” said Root, taking a step towards Shaw and snatching the car keys out of her hand before she could protest. “I’m driving you home,” she said firmly. She took the gun out of Shaw’s grip as well, just in case, and Shaw watched her silently as she tucked it safely in her pocket.

Root eyed her carefully, noting the way Shaw had paled suddenly. “You’re not about to throw up, are you?” she asked, her nose crinkling in disgust.

“I just tried to shoot you,” said Shaw, looking a bit dumbstruck.

Root rolled her eyes. “Oh sure, _now_ you feel guilty.”

“In the _head_ ,” Shaw added.

“Relax,” said Root, grabbing her by the elbow and leading Shaw in the direction of her car, “I knew you’d miss.”

“But I _never_ miss,” said Shaw and Root was pleased to note she had become more compliant now that she had tried, and failed, to kill her.

“Well clearly after half a bottle of Glenlivet you do,” said Root, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side door. “Get in.”

Shaw did as she was told.

*

Shaw woke up with a groan and “Good morning, Sunshine” said brightly in her ear.

“You still here?” Shaw said flatly into her pillow. Shaw felt the side of the bed dip and groaned in annoyance when she could feel Root lean closer to her as she sat down.

“Thought I’d return the favour,” Root said and Shaw thought she could detect a hint of smugness there.

“There was no favour,” Shaw protested, turning over and glaring at Root. “You were in my apartment, I didn’t have much choice.”

But Root just smirked at her. “Thought you might need this,” she said, offering Shaw some aspirin.

“I’m fine, actually,” Shaw lied. “I don’t get hangovers.”

Root snorted. “Just like you don’t throw up when you drink?”

Shaw narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t…”

“Relax,” said Root, glancing at her sympathetically but Shaw wasn’t entirely sure she trusted it. “You just looked a bit green for a while there.”

Shaw snatched the aspirin from Root’s hand, scowling at her as she did so, almost daring her to make a comment. But Root kept her mouth shut for once. Shaw hissed as the bottle of pills hit against her palm, and she brought her hand to her face to closely examine a wound she didn’t even know she had.

“Broken glass,” Root clarified. “In the bar…”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Shaw snapped, the previous evening slowly coming back to her. The wound stung and probably could have done with a few stitches. “Why isn’t this bandaged?” Shaw complained, glaring at Root as if were all her fault.

“I tried,” said Root, pressing her lips together tightly. “But you became extremely non-compliant after you realised I took your gun.”

“Oh,” said Shaw. And then: “ _Oh,”_ when she remembered _why_ Root had taken her gun. “Shit.”

But Root just rolled her eyes at her. Shaw wondered how much of it was faked though. Shaw _had_ tried to kill her after all.

“Here,” said Root, handing Shaw the gun back. Shaw took it wordlessly, thinking she should probably say an apology, say _something_ , but Root was already getting up and leaving before she could.

“Oh and next time,” said Root, pausing in the doorway, “if you’re looking for a booty call, it’s probably best if you’re _not_ near catatonic.”

Root smirked at her brightly over her shoulder as she left.

“ _I wasn’t calling you_!” Shaw called after her.

 

3.

“We’re all gonna die.”

Despite being exhausted, Shaw still rolled her eyes. “You called me at two in the morning to tell me _that_?”

“Don’t you think it’s funny?” Root slurred.

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” said Shaw flatly. “Now, go away.”

“I don’t think vodka agrees with me,” Root said hurriedly before Shaw could hang up.

Shaw clenched her jaw and tried not to care. But then Root hiccupped and mumbled something into the phone and Shaw sighed heavily. “Where are you?” she asked resignedly.

“In a bar,” said Root.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Shaw deadpanned. “Which one?”

“Oh. Uh…”

Shaw shook her head in annoyance. “Just get the Machine to text me the address,” she ordered and got out of bed. Shaw hung up the phone and started pulling some clothes on, grumbling to herself about why she had even answered her goddamn phone in the first place. She should have known better. Shaw snatched up her car keys when her phone beeped and she stared in annoyance at the name of the bar the Machine had texted her – of course it would be fucking halfway across town.

*

Shaw knew the instant she walked in the dingy looking bar that Root was completely wasted out of her mind and she gritted her teeth as she watched Root sway precariously on her stool, gesturing wildly with the glass in her hand, sending vodka splashing all over herself and the floor as she talked to some random guy. Shaw stalked over to them and told the guy to beat it, shooting him a glare until he disappeared back to where he had come from.

"Okay, Cheap-Drunk, time to go," said Shaw, grabbing Root by the elbow and lifting her off her stool.

"Hold on a minute," the bartender snapped, grabbing Root's other forearm. "She hasn't paid her tab yet."

Shaw glared at him until he let her go and then asked, "Well, how much is it?"

"Three hundred," said the bartender.

" _Dollars_?" Shaw exclaimed. "What the hell did you drink?" she snapped at Root.

"I may have bought everyone in the bar a couple of rounds," mumbled Root and turned around, lifting her glass up in the air and was rewarded with a loud cheer from the only other patrons currently left in the bar: four idiots sitting in the corner who looked just about as far gone as Root.

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "I don't have three hundred bucks. How much cash have you got on you?"

But Root just shrugged, the movement sending the alcohol in her glass flying again. Shaw snatched the glass off her and slammed it down on the bar and began searching through Root's pockets.

Root giggled. "Are you trying to feel me up? Because you're not doing a very good job."

Shaw clenched her jaw and didn't say anything, but at least she found a ten dollar bill in Root's back pocket. "Is this is it?" she asked although she doubted she would get answer.

"Machine says there's an ATM round the corner," said Root, leaning heavily on the bar with one elbow and trailing a finger idly along the rim of her near empty glass.

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Fine," she snapped.  "Don't move. And at least _try_ and sober up."

Shaw disappeared out of the bar, grumbling about the fact that she was having to pay for Root's binge drinking and returned as quick as she could to find Root nowhere in sight.

"Where the hell did she go?" Shaw asked the bartender, but he was too busy eyeing up the money in her hand. Shaw dumped the cash on the bar in annoyance.

"Bathroom," the bartender muttered, gesturing over to the left as he counted the money now in his hands.

Shaw went where he directed, determined never to answer her phone again and tempted, just a little bit, to stomp her foot down on it so _no one_ would be able to ever call her again.

Shaw found Root in a hallway, pressed up against the wall by that random guy from earlier as he tried to kiss her. Root didn't look that into it, but she was too drunk to do anything about it. Shaw stomped over to them, grabbed the guy by his arm and twisted it up behind him and shoved him up against the wall.

"I suggest you fuck off before I break your arm," she hissed in his ear. He didn't need telling twice and stumbled back into the bar to find his friends.

Root slid to the floor and stared up at Shaw with a smirk on her face. "My white knight," she said gleefully.

Shaw rolled her eyes. "I told you not to move."

"I had to pee," Root explained.

"Well at least you’re not throwing up this time," Shaw muttered, but wondered absently if she was speaking a little too soon. She held out her hand and pulled Root to her feet. "Come on, let’s go."

Shaw was more than a little relieved when Root didn't try to protest and she managed to get her out and into the car without any fuss.

"You want to tell me why you felt the need to drink half of New York?" Shaw asked as she drove back to her apartment.

"Not really," Root mumbled, resting her head against the window. "I'm not supposed to."

Shaw wondered what that meant but didn't ask and was relieved when Root seemed to have sobered up enough to not need help climbing up the seven flights of stairs to Shaw’s apartment. Shaw walked behind her though, ready in case Root stumbled and fell.

They made it to her floor and Root leaned against the wall next to Shaw’s apartment door as Shaw fumbled for her keys.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Root muttered.

Shaw grunted and eventually found her keys. She dropped them when Root leaned over to kiss her though.

Shaw pushed her away with a glare. “You’re drunk,” she said and bent down to pick up her keys.

“So?” said Root, watching Shaw carefully as she unlocked the door. “Worried you’ll be taking advantage of me?” she asked playfully.

Shaw ignored her and stepped into the apartment. “You can sleep on the couch.”

“Not the floor this time?” said Root happily. “We’re making progress.”

Shaw flinched when Root’s hands went for her waist, shivered when Root’s fingers reached under her shirt and brushed against her bare skin.

“Stop it,” said Shaw and was annoyed to find her voice was not nearly as forceful as she had intended it to be.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve never thought about this?” Root muttered in her ear, lips so close they were almost touching. Shaw felt Root’s breath brush against her skin like a gentle breeze and suppressed the shiver of pleasure that it brought with it.

“No, I haven’t,” Shaw said and they both knew she was lying. And not for the first time Shaw wondered if the Machine could somehow see inside her head. But it wasn’t the Machine, it was _Root_ that got inside her head, no matter how much Shaw tried to fight it.

Shaw remained still and eventually Root let her go and stepped back with a disappointed look on her face.

“I’ll, uh… get you a blanket,” said Shaw, clearing her throat as she left the room. She smacked herself against the forehead as soon as she was out of sight, once again cursing herself for answering her fucking phone.

When Shaw returned to the living room, Root was already passed out face first on the couch. Shaw rolled her eyes and threw the blanket over her. Then she took Root’s shoes off and told herself it was because she didn’t want her couch getting ruined.

Shaw went to back to bed and it took her a long time to fall back asleep. When she woke up in the morning Root was gone, the blanket folded up neatly on the couch instead.

 

4.

Root ducked as a bullet whizzed past her head. The Machine told her to move to her left then aim at twelve, one and three o’clock. Root did as she was told, three bodies dropping to the ground in her wake. She was just starting to enjoy herself when her phone rang and the Machine helpfully patched the call through to her implant.

“Root, I’m drunk.”

“Shaw?” said Root, distracted enough that she missed the warning from the Machine about the bad guy coming towards her. Root side stepped out of his way and brought the butt of her gun down against the back of his neck. “I’m kinda busy here, Shaw,” said Root a little breathlessly.

“No,” said Shaw. “I’m _drunk._ ”

“Yes,” said Root tightly as she ducked behind a crate when more bullets flew in her direction, “you said that already.”

“Oh, for God sake,” Shaw snapped as Root ventured out from behind her cover and began shooting. “This is a _booty call_.”

“ _What?_ ” said Root and froze. She realised that was a mistake as soon as a bullet clipped her right shoulder. Root hissed and took cover again, the Machine blaring a warning in her ear. Root shot off a couple of rounds blindly over the top of the crate and then examined her wound. It was just a scratch but she was becoming rapidly more outnumbered and it was about time that she got out of there fast. She had collected what she had come here for anyway. It was definitely time to go.

“Are you listening to me?” Shaw demanded in her ear.

“Not really,” Root murmured. “Can I call you back?” she added and hung up before Shaw could say anything.

With the Machine’s help, Root made it out of the warehouse alive and She insisted that Root seek medical attention for her arm. But Root ignored Her and the Machine eventually gave her an address, almost as if She knew what had Root so preoccupied.

Root didn’t even reach the bar – she spotted Shaw slumped on the ground, leaning against her car with a bottle of scotch held tightly in her hands.

“I can’t find my keys,” Shaw explained when Root knelt down in front of her.

Root held back a smirk and prised the bottle out of Shaw’s hand. “Did you check your pockets?”

“Yes,” said Shaw sullenly.

“All of them?” Root asked as the Machine informed her which pocket Shaw had left her car keys in.

Shaw opened her mouth to respond – probably curtly, Root thought – but snapped it shut again when Root reached into her left jacket pocket and pulled out the set of keys. She hooked them around her finger and dangled them smugly in front of Shaw’s face.

“Can you drive me home?” Shaw asked and Root thought there might be some underlying meaning to that request, Shaw’s compliance and lack of testiness making her suspicious.

Root helped Shaw to her feet, conveniently leaving the bottle of booze behind on the sidewalk as they both got into the car.

“What happened to your arm?” Shaw asked, staring blearily at her.

“Nothing,” said Root, putting her hand over the wound absently.

“Stop it,” said Shaw vehemently.

“Stop what?” asked Root, glancing at her sideways, confused by Shaw’s sudden change in demeanour.

“ _That_ ,” snapped Shaw. “Pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Root swallowed thickly and didn’t respond. What was she supposed to say? Samaritan is coming online in less than a week and there is nothing any one of us can do about it? She could say it; she could wallow in self-pity and pretend the world wasn’t about to end, but what would be the point? They’d still all likely die in the end anyway.

Shaw was still staring at her determinedly and Root tried not to fidget under her scrutiny as she parked the car outside of Shaw’s apartment building. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Shaw eventually got out of the car and stalked inside her apartment building, slipping inside as some guy came out. Root watched her go and realised belatedly that she still had Shaw’s keys.

Root cursed under her breath and wondered if (hoped) Shaw had done it on purpose. But it was a stupid thought, because this was ridiculous and dangerous and Shaw definitely wouldn’t be doing this had she been sober. But Root got out of the car anyway and followed her inside.

Shaw was leaning against her front door, waiting for her and Root unlocked the apartment door wordlessly to let her inside. Root tried to hand the keys back but Shaw just grabbed onto her forearm and dragged her inside, kicking the door shut behind them and shoving Root up against it as she kissed her.

Root tried to pretend her lips didn’t tingle with Shaw’s against them, tried to ignore the spark that went shooting through her entire body when Shaw bit down hard and reached for Root’s belt buckle.

Root grabbed her wrists and gently pushed Shaw away and it was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. “You’re drunk,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” said Shaw softly, “that had been the idea.”

“Shaw,” said Root and closed her eyes because it felt like it might be easier. It wasn’t. “I think you should go to bed.”

But Shaw ignored her and Root tried not to shiver when Shaw trailed her teeth up her neck and towards her ear. “I know you want this,” Shaw mumbled in her ear, before biting down on her earlobe.

Root swallowed thickly because yes, she did want it, and it was embarrassing just how badly.

“You’re drunk,” Root said again and this time pushed Shaw away with more force. “And I’d rather not get my ass kicked in the morning when you sober up. So I think you should go to bed.”

Shaw stepped back and glared at her. “Then why the hell did you come up here?” she snapped.

“Because you left your keys,” Root said and held them out to Shaw. When she didn’t take them, Root tossed them on the coffee table. “I should go.”

“Fine,” Shaw snapped. “Whatever.”

Root rolled her eyes. But she stayed a moment, and she wondered how much of this was Shaw and how much of it had been the alcohol and figured it was best not ask, best not to think about it.

“I’ll see you around?” said Root. It wasn’t really a question; she knew she would see Shaw again. Root knew what was coming and it left her wondering why she didn’t take advantage of the situation whilst she still had the chance.  But then she left and Root tried to pretend she was okay with it.

 

5.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Root quirked an eyebrow as Shaw took the bar stool next to her and said nothing.

Shaw tried again. “I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I wouldn't forget a pretty face like that.”

This time Root laughed. “Really?” she said sceptically.

Shaw shrugged. “I figured my new alias would be into lame pick-up lines.”

“You’re trying to pick me up?” Root said, a little startled.

“No,” said Shaw. “I’m trying to _cheer_ you up. You look so miserable, everyone in this bar is starting to feel depressed.”

Root didn’t know what to say to that so she didn’t say anything, just swirled the drink in her glass around absently as Shaw waved over the bartender.

“What are you drinking?” Shaw asked.

Root shrugged and Shaw took the glass from her hand and sniffed.

“There’s no alcohol in here.”

“I’ve kind of gone off it after last time,” Root explained. Shaw rolled her eyes and ordered herself a beer.

“I would have thought your new alias would have been into more fancy drinks,” Root commented.

Shaw shrugged and took a sip of her beer. “I’m having the night off.”

Root stiffened a bit at that.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Relax, it’s just a beer.”

But Root didn’t relax because neither of them were supposed to be here right now and she knew the Machine was probably watching them in disproval. Not that Root would know. The Machine hadn’t spoken to her in weeks.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, but Root didn’t mind, it was almost… companionable.

“Want to tell me what the cryptic message was all about?” Shaw asked eventually, staring at her beer bottle. “Which took me three hours to interpret, by the way,” she added haughtily.

Root grinned. “Three hours, huh? I’m disappointed, _Sam._ I was expecting you to get here much sooner than that.”

Shaw gritted her teeth but didn’t fall for Root’s bait. “So?” Shaw asked again. “Why am I here? We got a job or something?”

“Or something,” said Root vaguely and didn’t clarify further. She waited until Shaw had finished her beer, then she leaned over, one hand dangerously high on Shaw’s thigh as she muttered in her ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

Shaw swallowed thickly and Root knew she had made her intentions clear. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” asked Root, trying to hide her disappointment. “I’m Caroline, your Sam… there’d be no strings attached.” But even as she said it, Root knew it wasn’t true.

Shaw stared at her carefully, her eyes darkening slightly when Root dug her fingernails a little deeper into Shaw’s leg and Root wondered what she was searching for, if she was trying to assess whether or not Root really was sober.

Eventually though, Shaw covered Root’s hand with her own. “Your place or mine?”

Root smiled widely. “My place is closer.”

*

Root felt awkward as she let them into “Caroline’s” apartment and she thought absently that maybe she should have had a drink after all, that maybe it would have been easier. But then Shaw pressed her roughly up against the wall, one hand behind Root’s neck to bring her head down closer to kiss her and Root forgot how to think, forgot about how to have second thoughts, could focus on nothing but the feel and the taste of Shaw’s lips against hers.

She let her hands work automatically, tugging at Shaw’s clothes, scratching and bruising the skin underneath and she tried not to whimper when Shaw pulled away slightly to look at her, eyes dark and heavy.

“Please,” Root begged and she didn’t think she could bear the silence any longer.

Shaw stared at her for a moment longer and then she was tearing at Root’s clothes, tugging the shirt up and over Root’s head and removing her bra so that she could attack the skin underneath. Every bite and every scratch was like a promise, like Shaw was trying to tell her something she couldn’t possibly achieve with words and every time Root felt the pain bite and nip at her flesh, she gasped and withered and felt heat pool between her legs, desperate to get out.

As if sensing it, as if _knowing_ it, Shaw turned them around and pushed her backwards, biting down hard on Root’s bottom lip. Root gasped when her hip hit against the kitchen counter and complied when Shaw moved to lift her up onto it.

Root grabbed Shaw’s face to kiss her hard as Shaw’s hand fumbled with the button of Root’s jeans. Shaw pulled away to trail kisses down Root’s neck and Root let out a moan when Shaw slipped a finger inside of her. Shaw’s hand stilled then and Root thought she might die from it, the need she had to feel Shaw moving inside of her.

“Please,” she said again as Shaw stared at her wordlessly. And Root didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t want to know and reached behind her, fumbling blindly for the kitchen knives that she knew were there somewhere, knocking utensils to the floor.

Shaw’s eyes had a feral glint to them when Root brought the knife around, its blade shining bright and deadly. Shaw clasped a hand over Root’s and they brought the knife down together, pressed it against Root’s flesh, gliding it along flawlessly through the skin between Root’s breasts. Shaw’s other hand worked inside of her, fingers going deeper, palm brushing against Root’s clit, making her groan and arch her back, her body unable to cope with the mixture of pain and pleasure and she thought she would burst from it.

Root pressed the knife in deeper, too deep and Shaw tightened her grip on her hand and forced her arm to the side as she pressed her further down onto the surface of the counter, her kiss hard and frantic like she was trying to prove something. The knife was knocked out of her hand, and it fell somewhere on the floor with a clatter. Shaw broke the kiss, leaned her head out of Root’s reach and ducked lower to trail her tongue down the blood forming across Root’s skin. Shaw curled her fingers deeper inside of her and that and the sight of her blood on Shaw’s lips was enough to send Root over the edge. She cried out, her hips bucking wildly, but whatever she was saying was lost to Shaw covering her mouth with her own and Root could taste the blood, warm and tangy and it sent a fresh wave of pleasure through her that left her feeling exhausted and spent.

Shaw was staring dazedly at her, like she couldn’t quite believe what they had just done. Root smirked at her and slid off the counter, their bodies pressed tightly together when Shaw didn’t move.

“I think I just ruined your shirt,” Root mumbled.

Shaw looked downwards at the blood now covering her shirt and shrugged. “I’m wearing far too many clothes anyway.”

“Yes,” Root agreed, “you are.” And she gripped Shaw’s hips, turned her around so now that it was Shaw pressed up against the counter. Root pulled the shirt over Shaw’s head, smiled delightedly at the sight of bare flesh and helped Shaw remove her bra so she could wrap her lips around Shaw’s nipple.

Shaw didn’t make a sound, but she did tighten her grip slightly on Root’s hips when Root bit down hard and Root wondered what she would have to do to make Shaw scream for her, to make her moan and beg and she decided it was an unbeatable challenge that she wouldn’t mind trying to win.

Root ducked her head lower, teeth scraping along Shaw’s skin and she wanted to leave a scar there, a mark for Shaw to forever remember her by. Shaw squirmed a bit when Root circled her tongue around her belly button and she wondered absently if Shaw was ticklish, but her curiosity wasn’t nearly as strong as her need to be inside of her and she pulled Shaw’s pants down roughly and made her step out of them.

Root smirked at the black underwear, not entirely surprised that it was practical and simple and she slipped them down Shaw’s thighs too.

“You don’t –” Shaw began, but then Root darted her tongue inside of her and Shaw clamped her mouth shut, gripping Root’s shoulder tightly.

Root marvelled at how wet she was, feeling smug that she was the cause of it and she relished in the taste and feel of her. And no matter what Root did with her tongue, no matter how many fingers she slipped inside of her, Shaw still didn’t make a sound. Root only knew she was close to coming when Shaw’s thighs pressed tightly against her head and her breathing got louder, more erratic. Then Shaw was shuddering underneath her and Root gripped her hips tightly to keep her upright.

Root trailed her tongue lazily up the length of her, up her belly and across one taught nipple, tasting salty sweat and nothing but Sameen, all the way up her neck and to her ear.

“I bet Caroline and Sam don’t have nearly as much fun during sex,” Root muttered in her ear because there was no point in pretending, no point in pretending they were something they were not.

“I  dunno,” said Shaw breathlessly, grabbing the sides of Root’s face so that their mouths were almost touching, “you can never really trust the quiet ones.”

Root snorted. “Coming from the person who just never made a sound, I can believe that.”

Shaw frowned at her. But Root kissed her again and the look went away, replaced with concern when Shaw pulled back slightly to look at her.

“You’re still bleeding,” Shaw said, looking down at the blood now covering them both.

Root shrugged, not bothered by it. She liked the sting it left behind, liked the way it reminded her that she was still alive. But Shaw continued to fuss and Root let her push her back slightly so that she could hop of the counter and she watched silently as Shaw got dressed.

“So what happens now?” Shaw asked, buttoning up her pants.

Root shrugged. “I go back to being Caroline and you go back to being Sam.”

“That’s it?” Shaw asked and Root tried not to think about it, tried not to get her hopes up by how frustrated she looked.

“We’re not supposed to see each other,” Root said, once again reminding herself that the Machine probably wouldn’t be happy about this.

“You called me,” Shaw snapped.

Root looked away and bit her lip and wondered if it had been a mistake, if she had blown their cover and Decima trigger teams were waiting outside for them.

“Fine,” Shaw said tiredly when Root continued to say nothing. “Whatever.”

Root smiled, reminded of the last time she had seen Shaw drunk.

“What?” Shaw snapped.

“Do you always get tetchy when you don’t get what you want?”

Shaw narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” said Root, smiling sadly. “It doesn’t matter. Go back to being Sam. It’s safer,” she added.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen my job, right?”

Root bit her lip and tried not to laugh, but Shaw’s look darkened anyway.

“Why am I not surprised you’re getting a kick out of this,” Shaw muttered, shaking her head in annoyance.

“Maybe I’ll stop by some day,” said Root brightly, “see how you’re getting along.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Shaw warned, but Root just smirked at her. And even if the Machine didn’t approve, Root was determined to stop by anyway, even if it was just to watch Shaw squirm for a while.

“I should go,” Shaw said after a moment, staring at her feet.

“Yeah,” Root breathed out and wished things could be different, wished they didn’t have Samaritan hanging over their heads.

But they did and they both had to go be someone else.

It was better this way, she told herself. It was safer. But it didn’t stop the fear that clenched at her heart when Shaw walked out.


End file.
